Friday, November 14, 2014

Awkward Kids In Love

It's always awkward when I go over there.
"Why am I even here?" I often ask.
"For the beer." My glass responds
"And the weed!" says the bubbler.
A hot white cloud of "Ah..." escapes me.
Sure, sometimes there's a cute girl or two.
Often a good conversation about a cartoon
character or super hero or musical film.
I can usually count on one pretentious
friend who will succeed at draining any
and all enthusiasm from the activities of
the night. He's usually easy to point out.
Deep voice, white-man confidence, angular
face, and an impressive brain capacity.
"I drink Jim Beam Whiskey exclusively."
He says. "Oh give me a break..." rolls my eyes.
It was uncomfortable enough with Johnny's
fragility and suspicions  running all over the place.
But now he's moved to L.A. and the house is
too quiet without his boisterous air to fill the corners.
Still, his props and action figures echo about the shelf space.
This house host heartbreak. First Patrick and Madison
and their inevitable split, with Pats questionable lingering
eccentricity and Mads viking-woman-esque appeal. 
Madison, apparently was too mean for Patricks
flamboyant softness. And Pat was too nice for Mads mean.
I would think that a therapist like Pat would have all the
answers. Break-up and move on was the apparent correct
choice. Johnny and Marnie weren't a match made in Heaven,
but they had their cute moments, I'm sure. Though, 
I was never found of Marn calling Johnny a bitch
in front of his friends, no matter how playful. 
(I certainly wouldn't stand for it)
Their end was in sight, but not for all to see. 
Thus were the inner toils of John and Marnie.
Finally there's Rich and Maig, the match made in military.
Two pale Americans married soon enough yet too soon.
Cute couple until the comedy started.
Rich would open a routine whenever he liked,
Maig would melt in atrophy, patient and sickened.
I would listen, politely, calm, rapt. 
Fascinated with the near predictability of an
evolving romantic fiasco. "They're just kids..."
I start to think, "...just like me. And they want to love
and feel loved like anybody else. Awkwardly,
unconditionally, musically, intimately.
So, why do I come here?" I'm asking again,
taking another sip, exhaling a whiter haze. 

Thursday, November 13, 2014

(Too) Close

Sometimes I get so close to something,
So close I can taste it, smell it, feel it
This is the "good zone," a place where I feel confident
A place of Faith, where I can graze the skin of absoluteness
And then there's too close
Where the balance is offset
My calibrations are jumbled
All of my settings are undone
And I spiral inward to personal darkness
Like falling down my own throat
Sticking to the walls on my way down
That dark, tar speckled, vertical hall
Noisy with sour wind
Sour with vapors of half digested foods
What does the brain think of all this?
Yinka says our brains protect us from ourselves
Perhaps. Or definitely. Most likely...
This year has been a violent wave
Of being close, too close, and so very
far away. 

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

When Things Don't Work Out

When things don't work out
it feels terrible
Like getting silently rejected 
by a cute neighbor girl
who invited you on a hike 
via Facebook
Some things don't work out
and it's for the better.
Like when the cute neighbor girl 
who has retracted her invitation
is said to have herpes
then things aren't so bad. 

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Everyday Faith

Live your life without doubt,
and that is Faith

Friday, October 10, 2014


Hickory Dickory Dock
Last night a man got shot
Over a gold chain
The shooter had no brain in his membrane 
or respect for life
A man was ended last night
Hickory dickory dock

Dickery Dickery Dare
He had his hands in the air
wave a gun like you just don't care
A puncture through the heart
to accessorize the clothes he wears
We live in the same city but we can't share
Dickery Dickery Dare

Hippity Hoppity Ho
Blood spurts with just one blow
Blood stains on the girl just he met
Staring up at her facing his death
her number in his wallet dripping red and wet
Hippity Hoppity Ho

Chickory Cherokee Woo
Guess what their teaching in school
how to sing nursery rhymes at three
Instead of who these kids could really be
Have them write their name in cursive one hundred times
over the murder docket sentencing them to two hundred lifes 
These children are bleeding out in the street to nursery rhymes
Chickory Cherokee Woo

Hickory Dickery just won't do.

Friday, October 3, 2014

Wet Crimes

He floats his boat on criminal waters
Bragging incessantly about his endeavors. 
His craft is an intrusive spin on identity
and what it means to create and augment said identity.
His craft is a gateway to a dark, wet culture,
vibrant with misfits, street kids, vandals, and brilliance.
If life is guided by lines, he lives bounded to jagged contours,
shapeless shapes, and wild appendages frolicking across flat planes,
adding depth to dimension.

He has peers.
Faceless figures known only by colorful pseudonyms,
each as street worthy and damage hungry as the next. 
They travel in packs or all alone. 
They have a code, that you never pay for supplies.
That you do not support the system that you are debilitating.
That stealing is necessary.
That not stealing is a not a crime.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

MB vs BC

What a cheeky bugger 
 I am not paying any attention whatsoever
it's Friday so who cares
and, in searching for that
I found the weirdest picture
 I think I've ever seen
 forward it
looks like it
maybe, kinda looks like it
(answered my own question)
he looks like a regular dude
on the beach
 the vinyl costs 30 lbs
that's heavy
It might change your mind
 It changed mine
but then again
 there has never been a good host
Kiss on the mouth, grab of the boob

 I religiously watch that show

because of him

but if you don't like him, you don't like him
though, he's a great host 
I almost feel like this is a practical joke
Prank on a Frank Day
Gag on a Fag
taken two ways
Con on a Jon
hurry the fuck up
 say that
I dare you
double dare in fact
but, I was on mute
you sure?
Guess again!
you heard, you read me
that's my line
I invented it
I had coffee again
can you  tell?
some would say it's a miracle
I'm getting it, alright....
 I bought some things I couldn't pass up this week
the one with a fist on one side
 who could forget Big Gay Chris
he took us to his favorite sex shop
partly out of amusement
and partly out of amusement
it was like an elbow
the way it goes into the girl
That sounds painful...
I can't not tell anyone ever
it must be shared
this guy did the impossible

I took a melatonin last night
I keep a bottle by my bedside
thought I'd give it a go
it's the kind of thing you take it just every once in a while, 
it's probably ok
but when you take it every night
 its coming from somewhere else
stupid brain

oh my God
my dreams were intensely vivid
with no end in sight
i know
I would like you to tell me the very first thing that comes to mind
i haven't gotten the picture yet
keep guessing
 the obvious function
is not it's purpose
like lifting weights with her lips
 popular as a bedroom toy
where is the moving part
to keep your mouth open
 I'm guessing
it has resistance
so she is supposed to bite
but come on

perfect way to end a skit
a three minute conversation about nothing
so I'm off the phone
copy if you can
I don't know, that's probably illegal
HIGHLY illegal
 it's above the law
 I'll give you three
above the Law...
yes, please
my new favorite number
not Friday anymore
the perfect day
That's the winner
what I would do for one of those
Would you kill a man?
depends on the man
he's probably cool

I mean

that could be me
two heads, hands up

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Option A + B

In all things in life, there are two paths to success.

   A) Work Hard
   B) Work Smart

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

CRUSHER - The Brand New EP!!

Hello readers and visitors!
If you like electronic music that can be sweet and also intense, 
I've got something special for you...

This is my brand new EP - CRUSHER
Five thundering instrumental tracks that push and pull in every direction
The songs on this min-album range from outer-worldy hip-hop
to Earth shaking dubby combo beats

So if you like good music
and something a little different
take 20 minutes out of your day to check out 


Monday, September 22, 2014


Who you are = Who you want to be

In our current state, 
we are who we have become through choice, 
consequence, determination, and desire, 
be it onset or offset. 
In this regard we are always who we want to be. 
Therefore it is important to compare yourself only to yourself. 
Who was yesterday? 
Who am I today? 
Who am I tomorrow? 

Sunday, September 21, 2014


Her: I'm impressed you know who Jackson Pollack is...

Me: Cool.

Friday, September 19, 2014

Ring Finger

She speaks softly
trots gaily
and dances
like a wild horse

She is the closest
to me
She is the farthest

She's like a dream
so real
so strange

If she scratched the sky
diamonds would rain

And should I be so lucky to catch one
firmly in my grasp

I would happily tie it tightly
round her ring finger

Monday, September 15, 2014

Mr. Young

You're a hard hearted little boy
with a harsh and critical attitude
You whip your little yellow tongue
snapping out small, subtle insults
and poison the air

You'd like to think we're not similar
but, brother we are.
Though a canyon separates our cultures
we are bound by nature,
mother fucker.

Frankly, I don't like you much
and that's what I like about you
That you could care less and never more
keeping your nose up
while you look down

You dress as sharply as you speak
and sometimes just as colorfully
But I hear you mostly talk about
"Weak shit" and "rude shit"
and that is you

I heard you bragging about yourself
how you stay away from outer influence
yet you criticize how your brothers live
and offer your best advice
behind their backs (hypocrite)

I appreciate your existence
the gift of lessons you bring
that I was sort-of once like you
except taller, bigger,
and grateful of most things

Friday, September 5, 2014

A Good Fit

Some jeans fit quite nicely
Hugging the rounds of the thighs
gently compressing at the knee
comfortably clung to the calf
and finally relaxing at the ankles

Though, consider first the fabric
After-all, there are many types of denim
different dyes and eclectic washes
And not everyone sews similar seems
Cheap pairs often fall apart quite easily

Finding the right fit is a challenge 
Sure, I'm a 34 x 34 when I stand
But, I become a 34 x 36 when I sit
So I need jeans that contour to me
And not the other way around

Monday, August 18, 2014


Was he ever one to do his homework?
He wasn't, at least not often.
He would scrape over the pages with his eyes
jumble up the symbols and signs
read over and over the instruction and lines
then droop low into a sulk and softly sigh,
"I don't want to do this."

However, inside his little head
ringing about in his vast little mind
a harsher sound could be heard
a scream, a shout, a curse, a plea
"I don't know how to do this! 
How am I supposed to do this?
Please, Please! Help me!"

Friday, August 15, 2014


Don't be afraid to write
words are just words
A soul, whether sharp or dull,
beckons to be expressed

Be courageous
a great bold mind
hard and tough to conquer
yet vulnerable still.

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Beyond The Trees

I am out past the borders
wandering in conviction
rustling up the fallen leaves
dusting off my fiction

Elsewhere is where I'll be
chemically living a dream
withdrawn from banks of memories
crossed out of actualities

The wind whispers secrets to me
truths for ears who'll listen
tells me there's a bending river
appropriate for wishing

Scarcity exist in the outer limits
conjured remnants of the city
however, beauty is all abundant
and forever always becoming

Friday, July 11, 2014


Things aren't so light
like the veins in a butterflys wing
But rather startling heavy;
the rock where my heart should be
Memories are just like people
arbitrarily kind or cruel
I behold a kingdom of memories
over my soul they rule

The mind is an unjust kingdom
it beheads young bodies of thought
premature actions cropped and numbed
the lifeless receipts of each intention bought
 this intent is paid with uncollected debt
phantoms owed to the next set of deeds
"Next Time" written in fine black ink
each little ticket reads

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Trouble and You

What am I going to do without you?
where will I go?
You're like the cold of the mountain
beneath a blanket of snow
You say I'm fine and perfect
that you could drink me like wine
But I can't decant from what I'm feeling
the air is too thin

What can I say to melt the ice
gathered at your gate?
If my words turn to fire
then scoot close to me
I'll be the desert when 
you need to dry your running tears
I'll be the safest place to hide
when you need shelter from fear

Tell it like it is
Like it was
and will always be
Don't listen to your Mother
Don't listen to me
I'm trouble, yes it's true
and trouble is in love with you

You don't have to worry
if it's not in the cards
But if you get discouraged
I know, it gets hard
Call me when you want me
just don't wait too long
A good thing will always live
even when it's dead and gone
is it dead and gone?

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Kind Like Kind

Kind are like kind
always searching outside
pulling in self projections
clustering like upon like 

Friday, June 20, 2014

Prompt: 06/20/14

It is not up to us to correct the mistakes of our parents
but to pave over our own paths with hope, ideas, and solutions
adding value to our individual and collective experience
assuring ourselves and our ancestors that whatever attempts
were made to insure a promising present and future, 
those attempts both successful and otherwise, 
are surely not in vain, but rather cherished events
that will forever be hearkened  in the chambers of our hearts.

Monday, June 9, 2014

I Am Defender

Against the throws of war
I am the defender of my heart.
Poisoned arrows with sharpened tips
soar with accusations dripping down their silvery lips 
ready to puncture my every pride.
But I am the defender of my heart.
When lovers complete the idea of me 
with incomplete ideas of me, 
a hollow shell of my actuality 
is animated 
and mocks me like a cartooned parody.
I am the defender.
A patient heart is a determined heart,
not waiting, but patient. 
Indeed wading, patiently, through thick 
and sticky scores of sluts, tramps,
and hooligans, all waiting with bows and arrows in hand.
Here I stand, the shield, the man,
the only defender of my heart. 
The blade sheathed in me is sharp and quiet, 
can reduce a loose tongue to a 
removed one, and will pierce the ears of 
any fortunate enough to hear what truth I speak, 
or stab, for my blade runs deep.
And it must. Because in me, my soul has trust. 
I seek within, beyond the moths and rust, 
between the unsettled dust, 
beneath the copper crust. 
I am the defender.
When chicks play games and lick the names 
of the many men they've fucked and bent, 
I write the boards and bar my chords 
pressing ink to page while burning sage.
Needless to say, the nights are solitary 
in my home. 
I thrive by candle light, 
fire helps me write, 
the flame insist that much burns inside of me. 
The pain, the shame, the 
misery, all melt off like calories.
I exercise the defender in my heart.
I have friends in many places, some wear 
two, three, four, and five faces. 
Some are copy cats and rely on traces 
to shape their lives and like glass blown vases 
are full of hot air. 
Speak your peace or let your words rest peacefully, 
because only deeds can be 
resurrected successfully, 
and the groundsman gave the keys to me, 
I run the graveyard shift in to the early morning. 
Would you believe how many thoughts are buried in this cemetery? 
Six feet beneath actions, respectfully. 
Where is the love you ask? 
Well where do I start? Begin where it ends.
I am the defender of my heart. 

Friday, June 6, 2014


Just as they created us
we created them
gestures of our human nature
are broadly traced upon their inner and outer contours
Up on great legs, these deities walk
trampling over mountains
swimming in the seas
growing vast valleys on their backs
Some say there is only one
that He is the greatest of the greater,
that She is the spirit, the Mother,
the Creator
Some shatter the spirit into many fragments
For there are rulers over all of my affections, 
my despairs, my prides, and my pities.  

Tuesday, June 3, 2014


I cut my face leaving this city
on the sharpest words I think I ever did speak
Now, I don't mind apologies all the time
But I swear I'll never, ever say I'm sorry

We caught a lucky break on Valentines Day
I bought a two way ticket and a hotel where we could stay
Meet me here in Bakersfield, halfway
We could settle down and talk the day away

With no self control,
no question why,
no giving up, 
no saying goodbye
no reason to ever stop
loving you

A stranger called on the telephone
it was a dirty prank played by a local boy
Nothing here interest me except you, my dear
So lets pack our bags and never come back again

But we made love late into the morning
I watched you changing in the mirror
The teddy bear I bought was tossed in the corner
We spilled some red wine and caught it on camera

With no self control
no question why,
no giving up,
no saying goodbye
no reason to ever stop
loving you

No letting go, 
no nights alone
no kiss and run,
except with tongue
no reason to ever stop
loving you

Wednesday, May 28, 2014


I want to love you, but
I don't know what to do about it.
I want to you kiss you, but
I am so scared of the taste.
I want to tell you how
I've waited all these years to tell you, but
I don't bother cause you've
cut off both your ears.

I think about you when
I'm out drinking alone.
I start to day dream with
the pictures on my phone.
I think I need you.
I think I'm wrong.
I feel you moving, but
it's just you moving on.

I read your articles.
I read you mind.
I think about the bank where
you save up you're time.
I'm just a dreamer.
You're just a dream.
I think you love me, but
I'm caught up in the seems.

You want to reach out, but
you don't want to seem vulnerable.
You want your freedom, but
it comes at such great cost.
You want protection.
You want control.
You want the person who
can fill up all the holes.

You're always busy.
You're never home.
You only think of me
when you feel all alone.
You say you're right.
You probably are.
You feel so close, but I
push you way too far.

You never ask me
how I'm doing anymore.
You only assume
I'm the same as once before.
You say you're sorry.
I don't speak.
We're like a sad song
broken on endless repeat.

We're seven verses sung
in discord harmony.
A dissonance heard
by ears of likened hearts.
A major melody.
A minor chord.
The sweet resolve
led into a soft encore.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014


I see what you're doing
You've found something new
You're learning how to flip your craft on its ear
and explore new territory.
And I'm proud of you.
I'm proud for you.
I'm inspired.
I'm envious.
It's so easy for you to share your work
You can just send a photo and wah-lah.
You're getting the credit you deserve.
You're getting up and out on the streets
littering the walls with your creation.
It's brave, it really is.
Watching you has helped me expose my fears
and in that exposition my goals are revealed.
There is much I have to share.
There is much work I have to do.
We are very alike, yet so different.
We both want to succeed!
And I am proud of you for wanting that!
We are both contenders fighting a similar fight
in a world riddled with wars of varying nature.
I am doing my best to be a friend.
I am doing my best to grow.
There's so much I want to say,
so much anger and hypocrisy waiting to be exposed,
but things of that sort are better forgiven and half-forgotten.
Because no matter how angry I get, or how jealous I become,
I love you, I care about you, I've got your back.
This is my gift to you.
It's small, but like the passion you have in craft
and in creating envy, 
it grows.

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Come on Strong

What did you think would happen?
You came in with a loose tongue, spitting
like a dog off a leash
carrying on about what you heard

I know, I know, I know, I know
I've heard it, heard it, heard it,
heard it all before
You know, you know, you know, you know
it's not worth it
but it hurts, so you like it

You didn't think it would happen
You placed a bet on the wrong hand, didn't you?
It was a long time coming
You fell fast face first on the cold, cold ground

You thought you knew it all
had it figured out from the start
Well, we've all come together now
do your best not to rip us apart

You come on strong
Like the wind before a storm
You come on strong
Like the waves beat down on the shore
You come on
Like the night before the dawn
You come on strong
Like the sound of fading away

Monday, May 5, 2014


Text messages and miscommunication
Lonely days and lonely nights
Better connecting with self and cat
Behaving more like a stable individual
Thinking, thinking, thinking
Paying less attention, being more attentive
Participating in speaking
Better with women, better with friends
Managing time, money, inebriation
Focus getting stronger
Cultivating true independence
Listening to an old music
Doing what I want to do responsibly, respectfully
Exercising leadership skills
Shifting perspectives, perception
Pushing harder, reaching farther
Reading, writing, and reciting
Building capacities on stronger foundations

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Heart Drive

The music had hushed, Elliott Smith was quiet.
iTunes was working, but not working.
The time marker crept along, keeping time, but
no there was no sound except the underwhelming whirring
of the fan in the CPU and the slow, eerie,
which I had never heard before.
"Some thing's wrong." I said, grabbing the mouse
and selecting pause on the play options menu.
Quickly I selected
"Please wait while..."
I waited for a long minute before deciding
something was definitely wrong and used my index finger
to quicken the shut-down process.
The clicking ceased, the whirring quieted, and
another long minute passed.
A hopeful index finger depressed the power button and
the familiar high whistle of the fan blew again,
the motherboard chittered and chattered to life,
gears and gadgets creaked and clanged, and
the computer came to life, much like when any
man or woman wakes from a black sleep,
stretches and twists the body, preparing him bones and flesh
for the working day ahead. And though all these start-up sounds were familiar,
one sound stood out like a jewel in the sand, or
a dark spot stained against a flood of light.
"Fuck." was the preferred expletive.
"What the fuck is 'Drive F?'" It was not the drive I was looking for.
The drive I was looking for was not there.
I was looking for Drive H: Seagate
At least the clicking had stopped.
I unplugged the hard drive from it's mount and "Bum bum..."
the cheerful and dismissive sound of disconnecting a unit from it's port
chimed loudly out of my studio monitor speakers.
"At least it's being recognized..." I thought.
Carefully, I plugged the drive back into the slot, docking the unit to the CPU.
A cheerful and welcoming "Bum bum!" was pronounced along with a haunting
"Click...Click...Click..." from the little black drive.
I was starting to get scared.
"BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ" shook my phone, and a blue light indicating a text glowed on and off.
"It's over... It's done..." I quietly announced.
My Mother busy with her crochet needles and yarn sat quietly on my bed,
her ears tightly cupped inside a pair of my headphones, listening to a YouTube program
streaming to her phone.
"10 years..." I thought.
"10 years of my work, my memories, my time, all erased; lost."
I thought about all the times I had fantasized about this happening,
losing my work, that is,
what I would do, how I would feel.
It was nothing like I had thought it would be.
I was painfully calm.
I didn't scream, I didn't cry, I didn't punch holes in the walls, I didn't
brag about it on Facebook,
instead, I accepted it.
Tracing the footsteps of my memories,
I traveled down many hallways to doors that had long been shut.
Pictures and art from high school; gone.
Pictures from the road trip with my estranged Father; gone.
Pictures of my lovers; gone.
All the late nights, every minutes, every hour, every trace of anything I've ever produced; gone.
My writing; gone.
All the music I stole; gone.
My memories; gone.
My time; arguably wasted.
Still, I did not scream. I did not suffer from any inverted orgasm.
I did not writhe. I did not quiver.
Instead, I responded to the blue flashing light and
joked about about how not all hope was lost, just "most of my stuff."

Monday, April 28, 2014

Thinking Out Loud

"Oh shit...."
I said to myself
as light from cars passing outside
danced across the office wall,
"...she's turning 27 this year..."
a quick personal pause
"..that's so....fucked!"
laughter burst out of me.

Ballpark Love

I could say dreams are curious, but are they really? I cannot recall a time that a dream has flirted any inquiry of me, it is only me that inquires into my dreams, or so it seems. What if we never spoke of dreams and regarded them as an off-shoot of memories? "What was it I was thinking?" Dreams are portals; step into the fissure and feel yourself carbonate. Bubbles rushing through your toes up and out of your nose. You're in deep, dark, thick, sleep. 

So, last night in my dream she was sitting next to me. We were at a ball game of some sort. It felt like baseball, but smelled like football. I sat with her and her girlfriend. The two were laughing and joking at topics easily ignored by a man. She sat next to me, plainly gorgeous, light, and womanly. She is a woman. And here in this stadium, immensely packed with blurred apparitions of people, she was my girl. I wasn't mad at her, but a little annoyed - much like my actual attitude towards her in my waking life. However, annoyed as I was, I was playful and caring, though hardened and quiet. She sat on my left, her hair in a bun, a black tank-top clung to her chest, and jeans that I did not see. A comfortable halt in her girly conversation and she turned to me, finally. Cracking a smile she sarcastically complimented me, "Ohhhh, look at those veiny arms of yours..."she joked, but meant it seriously. My arm outstretched, veins and all, responded immediately to the call. Annoyed, I was, but still in love. Her words still push, prod, and shove like they always have. She tried to turn, but I caught her in my gaze and stared at her as if in a daze. My face was cut as sharp as stone, and in that moment, we sat alone. Isolated in a crowded space, focused on my lover. 

And as I awoke the stadium went black, a heavy vignette shrouded my dream-girl and she was gone. I tossed in my bed from one side to the other, grasping frantically at a pillow, shoving it between my legs. It was early, too early to get up. I laid my head down and thought about that mystery until the waves of sleep carried me again into the sea. 

Friday, April 25, 2014


Don't take their bullshit.
Tell them right then and there
"No, you're wrong."
Tell 'em they're out of line
and need to get back in.
Tell 'em "No, you can have my time some other time."
Set your own schedule.
Be the hands on your own clock.
You're not here to only fill space,
you're here to create and manage space.
Do talk about it with your friends.
Don't do what you're friends are doing,
but learn from their actions how to
better shape your own.
Cause you're friends are fuck ups
and frankly, so are you.
So, don't take the bullshit.
Be the fucking Bull.

Thursday, April 24, 2014

Hold On (We're Almost There)

(For the people of Bangladesh and the souls of their loved ones- safe passage)

Take cover
it's coming down crashing
the ceiling is coming undone
piece by piece it's falling apart
the walls are crushed
and ground into dust
It breaks my heart
Hold my hand in yours...

us into salvation
Our bodies are given away
piece by piece we're all torn apart
our bones are crushed
and found in the dust
It's shakes my heart
Lord, my soul is torn

Don't worry
of who is to blame
the dark of the dawn has come
piece by piece we're taken apart
and sewn back up
bound by our trust
I place my heart
in the hands of yours

So hold on,
We're almost there..
We hold on,
We're almost there!

Take cover!
It's coming down crashing!
The ceiling is coming undone!

Wednesday, April 23, 2014


I appreciate the body
I appreciate the mind
I appreciate the soul
and I appreciate time

Thursday, April 10, 2014

"Nobody knows they are boring..."

That's funny, I have a very deep knowledge of what makes me boring.

And I'm proud of it. 
Keep looking forward, kiddo.
I want to see you succeed.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Fact and Fantasy

I hate to see you go
but it's better that the hold
you had on me is loose
before the scenes of losing teeth
grip onto my dreams

It is not strange for me
to think of you with other men
In fact, it is a fantasy
that you are wed and happily


Pouring down the dark highway
just moments before the coming dawn
softening up my waking senses
raising Cain inside my skull

freaked out on a glowing highway
absorbed in the neon lights
pink and green intoxicate me
raucous laughter and muddled behavior

indistinct and inebriated
glazed and high, you know it ain't nothing
compotation on carousals
lit and lush, now I want something

on a trip of sent consumption
tumultuous and turbulent
dry and flaky on the inside
sobering up like a wet sponge in the Sun

pictures of her under the table
plastered on the bathroom wall
all my memories come on doubled
I am steeped in nostalgic behavior

intemperate and rebellious
baked and bombed, I'm all night long
enraptured and exhilarated
tanked and fried, got my hands tied

If it's all a dream
I'm ending it now
It's a break in the clouds
hard light shining down
There's a tear in my eye
from sinus congestion
am I dead or alive?
Well, that's the question..

Slipping out of that saturation
She's the rhythm, she's the sound
I desire no separation
So I dig in deep and make my girl proud

I can't touch her, but I can feel
her sine waves are oscillating
wired to my instrument
my tool, my love, I'm never leaving

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Twenty-First Century

Life can be so scary
especially when you know you're gonna die
wake up and work for hours
at a place you hate, and you're left wondering why

Life can be so stupid
when all the tables turn against you
been building this machine for ages
now it wont work, no matter what you do

My friends are changing
they're folding in on themselves
My family is aging
My memories are fading away

And I just want to be
I just want to be
I just want to be a loose screw

There's no need to be
no need to be
no need to be attached to the rules

Life can be so boring
just nine to five, five and nine, and nine to five again

I don't sleep
No time to dream
I wake up in the middle of the night and scream

I don't eat
I don't drink
I don't think about much
I just look around for the next available do-hah

Is it a problem
Or is it a solution?
I got problems
I need a revolution

Twenty-First Century
Twenty-One centipedes
The coins for your laundry and you
are the same thing

Wednesday, March 26, 2014


He's a B-flat whole tone scale kind of guy
who wouldn't know it lest he tried
Never really touched the keys with feeling
until he pressed them next to me

He picked a grand D5 out of the list
A flabby kick, a tight snare, and ride
sequenced them with clever whim
laughing at this silly song

A few suggestions here and there like
subract the sounds as they rerun
shape the length of the pattern clip
and remember to press the song button

Flew the coop, leaving the nest behind
Sped up across the twenty-four
heard the call of our stomachs growl
Seeking provisions wrapped in flour

Can't Get Enough

What I know about her is but topics few
not only does she write, but also reviews
short hand stories read aloud to
tech-head nerdophiles addicted to the news

Subtly revealed to me all the clues
that lead me to believe I sought the blues
Tried my best to abide my rules
that day she laced her running shoes

I've had more and less love to lose
endowing my wounds, she left a bruise
which bled quite black like spoiled fruit
and turned my attention back to the roots

Perhaps I hadn't thought it through
but, what is a conventional man to do?
the night my eyes were brave to woo
that curious guilt that she felt too

Monday, March 24, 2014


There is a beach house in my dreams
riddled with dusty things
on the walls lives a whole history
my collection of memories

The edge of the universe, I have seen
there was nothing there for me
just a grip of complex patterns
I laughed until I cried

Today the fifth year continues
soon coming to an end
I have taken on the task
of letting everything go

it runs on frayed tattered edge

Tiny Beast

It's not easy
but don't forget about it
just put it down
try again another lifetime

ages pass
the children get older
the new age
old propaganda

She's not tame
not like the other ones
a tiny beast
tramps on a small frame

I walked out
and slammed the door behind me
I stamped away
And shook the whole street

Lucid Games

Maybe you will change your mind
Waiting for the light to change
Something here doesn't feel right
You called me out of the blue
In the black of night

I stared at some images
they brought tears to my eyes
You were lying next to me
smiling like a wide eyed child

I was hidden in plain sight
locked behind an open door
Nothing feels quite like
when someone doesn't want
you anymore

Lately, everything around me
softly speaks your name
maybe it's my memories
playing lucid games

When you tried to call me
I ignored my phone
I saw the blinking,
heard the vibrating
Still, I left it alone

If I was by myself
I might have picked up
but I was out and with my friends
you were home and out of luck


It's not so obvious
it's hidden in your eyes
not quite a blanket
but foggy and white
You run from spiders
they chase you in your dreams
some nights you're falling
in and out of sleep
Don't ask your Mama
what the B-word means
She'll drag your confidence
quickly across your cheeks


Maybe I should give up
trying to love you
maybe I should give up
calling you my kin

Am i so bad that you don't wanna know 

who I am
or who we are together?

If you choose to be

You will be alone
If you choose to be
You will be afraid

Does it hurt so bad when you look at me?

Of Who I resemble
Of Who I favor most?

Maybe I should give up

trying to look at you
Maybe I should give up
calling you at all


Honestly It's a bad time
maybe you understand
I've been walking in the rain
I've been smoking again

I've been reaching out to you

with my invisible hand
grasping at superstition
pulling out whats real

Every dream takes time

It's better if you're fast asleep
I don't know, I don't mind
Falling in deep

You like to think you're like me

You like to think you know
I don't really know about that
honestly, I don't

Friday, February 21, 2014

Run Off

I get it, you want to see without seeing.
Or be close without being close.
You've extended your invisible reach,
and quietly secured your every security breech.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014


You gave me a warning
and ruined my ruined day
You can't say you're sorry
and I can't contain myself

Me and my buddies
are taking a trip across town
We're dressed in all black
marching up to your door

The sound of singing
ringing through the halls and the walls
afflicts me like poison
Rushing into my viens

I could turn back
but the door swings wide open
I can't turn back
the window is closing

To whom do I owe
this awful introduction?
I am aghast
at a too soon insult

Your back always turned
Offered us a seat on the floor
Hidden behind the framed glass
Actually, you didn't get my name

I'll sit where I want
Me and my friends
share the psuedonym
And I'm in your house

This is a bad idea
Can you see it my eyes?
All the trouble of my life
Has brought me here tonight

Thursday, January 9, 2014